A king has few friends, a tyrant has fewer. these where the words flowinging rampantly through the mind of a king given a second chance at life, a chance no one wanted, and a chance he didnt need. Logan had pleaded for his life, pleaded and begged before a courtroom of enimies. Humiliation ensued when his brother spared him. This was not what he had expected, this was not what he had planned, yet this was what had been dealt to him.

The guards that had escorted him back to his chambers had since left him and had been replaced by two watchmen outside the door. These two men would be changed every two hours and such would be the patttern for countless days to come. Logan glanced around his bedroom, the room he had always awoken in, filled with power and authority, and the place he had rested at night, after hours of toiling over a kingdom that did not wish to be saved, and could not be saved. now this chamber felt desalate, robbed of it;s memories and filled only with weakness and self pity. Logan hated it already.

He seated himself upon his bed and took a second glance around. Nothing had been touched since this morning, his bed clothes remained layed out by the fire (Now burnt out), his swords and trophies still in place, unmoved by the events that had condemned him to this state, they had little use now, they served only as reminders of things he once had, power he once posessed. His personal writing desk stood as it always did, against the wall by the door and had a few papers blown out of place upon his hastened entry a few minutes earlier, this was a common thing and caused a great deal of inconvenience, but he had never bothered to shift the position of the desk to a more convinient place where his letters and lists would be undisturbed by the drafts. He recalled sitting there only yesterday, writing a letter, to someone he could not recall, on a topic he did not remember, naturally however this was no longer important, as soon as he could muster up the energy, to cross the room and pick up his papers, he would burn them, he doubted he would ever want to read them.

The sound of voices and footsteps could be heard reattling down the corridor towards his chamber, he rose to his feet and at once his door opened and in entered Sir walter Beck, Followed by the new King of Albion, his pitiful younger brother.

"This King wishes to adress you" Walter stated, Logan offered no reply, instead snapped his focus to the young king, still donned with his crown and robes.

"You look so weak there brother" Said the king, looking his older brother up and down, a faint glimmer of some unitentifyable emotion crossing is face "It saddens me to see you so"

"Yet you yourself caused it." Logan snapped back. The king flinched slightly and then continued.

"I could not kill you Logan, i could not watch my brother die"

"no, you would rather watch me rot in this prison"

"it is not a prison, it is a protection"

"against what?"

"against everything you left out there in this world, it is a protection against the people who would pay what gold you left them to watch you hang."

"Let them hang me, you are their savior, give them what they want, you always do, oh faultess one, you think i took that throne from our father, with the intention of watching his kingdom crumble, with the intention of wtahcing his people die one by one because i couldnt give them what they wanted, what they needed." The King fell silent as his brother continued "Do you think, brother, that i chuckled wickedly every night, rubbing my hands together with glee knowing that tomorrow i would have to raise taxes, because i couldnt afford to protect them, put children into labour because i didnt have the man power to support them, i did what i did beacuse i had no choice, and neither will you. Hero's are gone brother, magic is gone, miricals are few and far between and all we have left is powerlessness and cruelty, choose which one you wish to rule with"

The king waited a few moments before replying

"Things will be different this time"

"Things will be worse this time! They expect much of you, just wait until you realise how little you have to offer" With that logan turned and walked to his window. The faint sound of celebrations could be heard from somewhere below, he chose to focus on the sound of the music, as opposed to the sound of his brothers parting words. The door was shut behind him and he was once again alone with his thoughts, how long would it be before they drove him mad?